


Lights Will Guide You Home

by BeaniesAndTOMS



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Harming Harry, Triggers, old one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:41:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2906198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaniesAndTOMS/pseuds/BeaniesAndTOMS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's broken. Louis wants to fix him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights Will Guide You Home

**Author's Note:**

> Just moving this over from [tumblr](http://www.kissharryyoufool.tumblr.com).

Harry was changing. They were subtle changes, but they were there. Not many people seemed to notice - but Louis did. How could he not? He noticed everything about Harry. And he knew Harry like the back of his hand, better than he knew himself. He noticed the light in his green eyes was dwindling, his smiles now seemed forced, his laugh hallow. He didn’t understand how everyone else could not know, how they could really think Harry was still his happy, bubbly self. It was so obvious to him, it was practically screaming in his face.

Harry was starting to close himself off, building up a shell. Though he still went out sometimes, the majority of the time when Louis went out with the boys now, whether it was to a club or the movies or just to eat, Harry would opt to stay home. Which was weird for him, because he was never a stay-at-home type of person and he used to always jump at the chance to hang out with the boys every time he could. He always went to his bedroom early now, claiming he was tired or wanted to read. At first Louis thought he was just catching up on sleep and really was tired, but the bags under his eyes every morning told a different story. And they never slept in the same bed any more. There were no more late night cuddles, no climbing in to each others bed in the middle of the night. Louis didn’t know how or why it stopped - it just did. Harry was closing himself off to Louis of all people, and that’s what scared him most of all. Louis was the one person Harry could always come to about anything and everything, he was always honest with Louis - no matter what.

Louis had repeatedly tried to get Harry to tell him what was wrong with him, but Harry always played it off, acting as if he had no idea what Louis was talking about, as if Louis was imagining everything, freaking out over nothing. But Louis knew that wasn’t true.

Right now, sitting in the living room of their flat, leaning back against the cushions of their couch, Louis was more scared than ever. He was scared to his core.

Harry had just went to his bedroom, early once again, claiming that he had a slight headache and so he was going to take a painkiller and crash early. But the look in his eyes - it was different this time. There was a sort of dark desperation clouding them and he seemed on edge, his hands shook slightly, his feet tapping against the floor. He couldn’t stay still. Louis couldn’t explain what it was, but it scared him. It scared him so bad.

He just wanted to cry, to _scream_ out in frustration. He wanted to know what was wrong, wanted to know why he was so hurt, wanted to take away his pain and take it on himself instead, wanted to know how to fix his _Hazza_. He just wanted to fix him. He _needed_ to fix him. Needed to see his eyes light up again, needed to hear his tinkling laugh flow through his ears once again.

He wouldn’t let Harry go another day alone. He wouldn’t let him go another day in this state. He was going to help him, whether he wanted it or not.

Standing up, he walked down the hallway with new found determination in each step, quickly reaching Harry’s bedroom door. Turning the knob, he swung the door open to find that - Harry wasn’t even in it. He stepped farther in, peering around curiously. “Haz?”

He saw light out of his peripheral vision, turning his head to find it was coming from the bottom of the bathroom door and quickly deducted, with a sigh of relief, that that’s where Harry was. He knocked on it gently. “Haz? You okay?”

A small crash was immediately heard, metal connecting with tile, and Harry let out a hiss of pain.

Louis’ brow crinkled in concern. “Harry, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Lou - I’m fine, okay? I’d just appreciate a bit of privacy at the moment.” His voice sounded strained and it didn’t help to ease Louis’ nerves.

“Well ..” It _was_ the bathroom after all; the place you needed privacy the most. But Louis’ body was filled with apprehension, he could feel something wasn’t right, could hear it in Harry’s voice. And he remembered the look in Harry’s eyes from earlier, sending a shiver of fear down his spine. “Let me in, Harry.” His voice was firmer now, more commanding than anything.

“No, Lou.” His voice was beginning to shake.

“ _Harry_. Let. Me. In.”

“Lou, go away. _Please_.” He seemed to be almost begging now, an edge of desperation to his voice. But it only egged Louis’ on farther.

What would Harry need to hide? From Louis, of all people? Louis mind suddenly ran wild with possibilities, gruesome images flitting across his mind, and he was momentarily frozen, his heart clenching in fear, he was being consumed by it. Without another thought, he swiftly brought his leg up, kicking violently at the door, and it crashed against the wall with a reverberating bang.

The sight before him caused his breath to catch in his throat, caused his heart to stutter in agony, and he stepped back, shocked at what he’d found. Harry was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bathtub, one arm being cradled by the other, 2 smaller cuts slit along his wrist, along with a deeper one below it, which Louis’ quickly deduced had been what caused the small crashing sound after he’d knocked. The 2 smaller cuts were oozing blood at a moderate rate, while the larger one was steadily flowing out red and it was currently slipping between his fingers, dripping down on to his jean covered knee.

He looked up at Louis, his cheeks flamed up in shame, and as soon as their eyes met, he began to cry. “I’m sorry, Lou. ‘m so sorry.”

Louis sprang in to action then, grabbing a towel off the rack and sitting down beside Harry on the floor, applying it to the wounds and putting pressure against it, hoping to slow down the bleeding. He placed his other arm around Harry’s shoulders, using it to pull him up against his side. He pushed Harry’s head down gently so that it was resting against his shoulder and Harry only began to cry harder at that, his shoulders shaking, salty tears pouring down his face. Louis began to run his fingers through his curls soothingly. “Shh, babe. It’s okay.”

“I’m s-so sorry. So sorry, Lou. P-please don’t hate me.” He buried his face further in Louis’ cloth covered shoulder, sobbing and dampening it with his tears.

Louis’ heart broke and he fought back against the stinging in his eyes, struggling not to cry too. He brushed the hair back from the younger boy’s forehead, kissing the newly revealed skin. “Haz, no. I could never hate you, especially not for this. Don’t ever think that.”

Harry only continued to cry in response, gripping fist fulls of Louis’ shirt in his hands. Louis sat there with him, threading his fingers comfortingly through his hair, until his tears had subsided. By that time, the pressure from the towel had stopped the bleeding all together, and so he sat the red stained cloth beside him on the floor, rubbing Harry’s back soothingly.

Though Harry had stopped crying, he was clearly not too keen on confronting Louis, still hiding his face in his shoulder. Louis allowed him a few more minutes to collect himself, continuing to run his hand up and down his spine. He knew they had to talk about this though, he needed to know why Harry was doing this. He needed to know so he could stop it, so he could make it go away. He never wanted Harry to feel like this.

Gentling grasping his jaw between his fingers, Louis lifted his head up and began to softly caress his cheek, silently urging him to look up at him. He finally did, slowly lifting his lids to reveal his murky green orbs, swirling in torment and remorse. The feather haired boy swallowed, exhaling heavily through his nose, fighting to not grip Harry in a bone-crushing hug and never allow him to go outside again, so that the world couldn’t hurt him anymore.

“Haz, babe….talk to me.” He whispered. “Why’d you do this to yourself?”

The younger boy merely shrugged, eyes downcast once again.

“You have to tell me, Harry. You have to talk to me. I wanna help you.”

His eyelashes fluttered, lids lifting once again, green meeting blue. After a tense moment, tears began to silently roll down his cheeks again and he began to speak in a broken whisper, voice shaking. “I’m just - I’m scared I’m gonna end up alone. Nobody wants me. I’m shit, Lou. I see the way people look at me. They’re disgusted, they can never look for more than a few minutes. And I don’t blame them - I’m so fucking disgusting I can barely stand to look at my own reflection sometimes. I‘m so ashamed of myself.”

Louis floundered for a few moments, not sure what to say. A morbid part of him wanted to laugh, surely this was a joke? How could this being - this beautiful, angelic, _perfect_ being - think that no one wanted him? How could he be so blind?

“Harry - no. You have girls throwing themselves at you daily. How can you think you’re not wanted?”

“Because they don’t really know me. They don’t see every thing. If they did, they’d be so repulsed that they’d run as far away as they could.” His chin began to quiver.

Louis could only stare, his mind whirling with thoughts of how wrong he was, how could he ever think this? Whirling with thoughts of how to fix him, how to change his mind. Before he realized the thought had even crossed his mind, he’d spoken. “But Harry…I want you.”

He immediately flushed in embarrassment, wishing he could grab the words from the air and stuff them back in, make them disappear. Harry only nibbled on his lip self consciously. “You don’t have to lie to try and make me feel better, Lou.”

Louis groaned softly in frustration. “I’m not. I know you better than anyone. I’ve seen you in the morning before you can fix yourself up, with bed head and bags under your eyes and morning breath. I’ve seen you so drunk you can barely walk, drooling and not even able to form a coherent sentence. I’ve seen you so pissed that you were throwing things, your face beat red and yelling so loud the neighbors could hear. I’ve seen this you. I’ve seen you at your worst. But I want you, Haz. And I _still_ want you.” His voice lowered. “I’ve wanted you for a long time. I’ve wanted you so bad. I don’t know how you couldn’t see it. But…you’re wanted, okay? You’re wanted.” He repeated, tugging gently on one of Harry’s curls.

“R-really?” He croaked, his voice hoarse. A speck of life, of light and hope had returned to his eyes.

Louis could only nod. “Really. You’re gorgeous and funny and adorable and perfect and -” He tilted his head. “I don’t see how anyone could not want you.”

Harry looked at him sheepishly, smiling shyly and biting his lip before darting his tongue out, dragging it along his lower lip and wetting it. Louis’ eyes zoned in on the glistening flesh, becoming entranced by it. He suddenly had an irrepressible urge to feel them on his. So, without warning, that’s exactly what he got, swiftly leaning forward and pressing his lips against Harry’s wet ones, cupping the back of his neck.

Harry jerked in shock, not expecting it, tensing momentarily before melting in to it, leaning farther into Louis’ embrace. He hummed contently, pulling Louis closer by his shirt until their chests were pressed flush together. The kiss was slow and sweet, a gentle press of mouths. It was languid and leisure, a deliberate brush of lips. Louis tried to express his feelings through it, telling Harry how much he cared, how true his words were.

When they finally pulled away, they rested their foreheads against one another. “Promise me you won’t do that again,” Louis whispered. “Promise me you’ll tell me when you’re feeling down, when you need to talk. Don’t come to this, come to _me_ , okay? I’ll spend every day telling you how perfect and beautiful and gorgeous and _amazing_ you are. Just…promise me.” His voice cracked with emotion, almost begging.

“Promise.”

And Louis did. After that, Harry would wake up to post-it note’s spread throughout the flat - on the toaster, the fridge, the television, covering the bathroom mirror - all telling him how flawless he was, pointing out something that Louis loved about him. Louis would take pictures of him sleeping or reading or drawing or listening to music, moments when he was off in his own little world and wasn’t paying attention , and he would leave them spread throughout the flat too, things like ‘stunning’ or ‘breath-taking’ scribbled across them. And he would constantly remind him vocally too, whether they were out with friends or just sitting at home, whispering how perfect and amazing he was, how Louis got butterflies every time he looked at him, and it would always cause Harry to grin widely, a blush lighting up his cheeks. Louis wouldn’t just tell him perfect he was physically though. He would tell him how funny and alluring he was, how his late night stories were the high-light of Louis’ day, how his laugh was Louis’ favorite sound, how much he loved the way Harry would scrunch up his nose adorably whenever he was confused, how it was all these little things that made Harry _Harry_ , and how much Louis loved every single one of them.

Yes, Louis kept his word. All the way up until Harry got better, and even after that.


End file.
